


How To Be Yours

by XtinaJones91



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Banter, Cute, Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, Idiots in Love, Just a pile of mush, Long-Distance Relationship, Lots of dialogue, Marriage Proposal, Phone Calls & Telephones, Portland, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, disgustingly soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtinaJones91/pseuds/XtinaJones91
Summary: It’s another typical day in the off-season for them, but when she wakes up that morning in their Portland apartment with Lindsey curled around her, Emily knows that it’s time.This is just pure fluff that goes on for way too long.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	How To Be Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Two fics posted in two days...this will never happen again.
> 
> To be quite honest this is literally just an 8500-word mess of fluff where not much actually happens, but it was sitting unfinished in my drafts and I thought...why not put it out there. 
> 
> Title is from the song "How To Be Yours" by Chris Renzema

It’s just another typical day in the off-season for them, but when she wakes up that morning in their Portland apartment with Lindsey curled around her, her girlfriend’s breath soft on the nape of her neck, grip around her waist strong and secure, Emily knows that it’s time. She’s done waiting for the perfect moment, done worrying it’ll all go wrong, done practicing what she’ll say, done agonizing over minute details that don’t matter.

She has the ring. She's had it for months now, actually. Since that game where the schedule aligned in their favor for once and they were actually in the same city just a few days after their two year anniversary. She dropped Lindsey off at the airport for her flight back to Portland the next morning and drove straight to a jeweler’s. She has the ring and they’re together and she’s out of reasons for delaying, isn’t really sure why she was delaying in the first place.

They’re settled and solid and happy, so completely and ridiculously happy. There’s really only one thing that could make their life together even better, and that’s being able to call Lindsey her wife.

She knows that they’re a forever thing, that this isn’t some experiment or fling or trial run, but there’s something about the act of binding themselves together legally and permanently - she wants the ceremony and the piece of paper and the giant party with their friends and family. She wants to show Lindsey off and avow her love for her in front of all those people. It’s what Lindsey deserves, what they both deserve, after all they’ve gone through to get to this point.

Lindsey shifts behind her, huffing and grumbling as she buries her nose into Emily’s shoulder. A smile spreads across her face and she shifts to turn toward Lindsey. Her smile widens as she’s greeted with Lindsey’s grumpy scowl, her eyes squeezed shut against the early winter morning light streaking through the blinds. She brushes a loose strand of hair from Lindsey’s forehead and dusts a kiss to her nose.  
  
“Morning, baby,” she whispers into the peaceful quiet of their bedroom.

Lindsey doesn’t open her eyes and grunts back an incoherent protest against the concept of being awake. She tugs Emily closer and tucks her head under Emily’s chin.

“Why’re you awake?” Lindsey mumbles into her collarbone, lips warm against her skin. “Thought we were sleepin’ in today.”

She chuckles softly and rubs a hand down Lindsey’s back under their cocoon of blankets.

“We are, we can” she answers, voice soft.

“You gonna go back to sleep, too?” Lindsey asks.  
  
She still hasn’t opened her eyes and Emily selfishly wants to see those bright blue (or maybe they’ll be more of a green shade today) eyes of her girlfriend. Her fingers trail lightly up and down Lindsey’s arm and Lindsey sinks into her, her body relaxing and slipping back toward sleep.

“Yeah, I’ll go back to sleep,” she agrees.

“Promise?” Lindsey murmurs after a long moment.

She slides her arm to curve around Lindsey’s back. They don’t usually sleep front to front like this, both of them preferring to trade off being the big spoon, but she likes the weight of Lindsey’s head on her chest, feels anchored by the leg Lindsey has thrown over her hip.

“Promise,” she breathes into Lindsey’s hairline and follows her words with a kiss pressed just above Lindsey’s ear where wisps of her baby hairs break free.

Lindsey hums in acknowledgement and presses her fingers into Emily’s hip, seemingly content with her answer. She doesn’t fight sleep when it claims her, Lindsey’s warmth and the steadiness of her breathing making it all too easy for her to indulge in a lazy morning. Content in the knowledge that today is the day she’ll ask Lindsey to marry her, she sleeps.

* * *

Lindsey sits at their kitchen table and patiently waits for Emily to finish making their late lunch of avocado toast. They slept in that morning (after some slight goading on her part) and grabbed a quick breakfast and coffee at the cafe down the street from their place before going for a run in the crisp early December Portland air.

It took a while for her to strip Emily of her many layers of clothing when they got back home, the time Emily has spent in Portland over the years still not enough to thicken her Georgia blood. She happily kissed Emily’s frozen nose as well as her rosy cheeks and chapped lips during the process. They fogged up the bathroom with the steam from the long, hot shower they shared, Emily’s no-longer-frozen hands wandering across her body and distracting them both (not that she minded).

Once they got properly cleaned and re-dressed, Emily cooked for them like she always did on the weekends. Avocado toast on Saturdays is one of their traditions, established in the first off-season they spent together as a couple. It often isn’t the only day of the week they eat the dish as their combined obsession over the food truly knows no bounds, but she insists it tastes better homemade, specifically homemade by Emily.

Said woman stands behind her now, humming along to some song that’s been stuck in her head all week as she cooks the highly anticipated avocado toast.

“Hurry up, Son, I’m starving,” she calls over her shoulder to her girlfriend.

“Don’t rush perfection, babe,” Emily tosses back, her brow adorably furrowed with focus. She doesn’t look up from the stove as Lindsey rolls her eyes and turns back to her phone. Ridiculous woman.

Ridiculous woman that she loves and is beyond lucky to have in her life in any way, let alone like this. It’s something she is sure to remind herself of every day: how being with Emily is a gift, is something she spent a long time thinking she wouldn’t have again, something she didn’t think she deserved after how _wrong_ everything went several years ago. She doesn’t let herself linger on the past right now, something she’s gotten so much better at with time (and therapy).

It’s a work in progress, the act of getting out of her head when the doubts creep in. She still irrationally fears that one day Emily will wake up and change her mind, that she’ll realize Lindsey’s not good enough for her and leave. They’ve talked about this - both in therapy together and when they’re at home, usually in the dark of their bedroom, wrapped up in blankets and each other.

That’s where she feels the safest, the two of them in their personal haven. Sometimes it’s an unfamiliar bed in a hotel room in another state or country, or the bed in Emily’s Georgia condo that they don’t spend nearly enough time in for Emily to still own. It’s different then, in those times that they aren’t in the place they both consider home now, but it’s always enough to calm her and ease her worries.

She knows that she wants Emily forever, has known it for a long while, before they finally got together even. She’s afraid to ask for it though, afraid to upset the blissful balance they’ve worked so hard to achieve in the last two years and some-odd months. It feels selfish to want more than what they currently have; she’s never been good at asking for the things that would make her the happiest.

She hears muttering and shuffling behind her and breaks herself from her spiral of thoughts that are far too deep for what is supposed to be their lazy Saturday.

“Seriously, Em, what is taking you so long?” she asks, not actually impatient but unable to stop herself from pestering her girlfriend.

“Nothing,” Emily quickly answers. There’s an odd tone in her voice that has Lindsey curious but she lets it go. She learned very early on in their friendship that it was best to let Sonnett be Sonnett and just see what happened as a result of that crazy, creative brain of hers.

“I’m just finishing up the design,” Emily elaborates after a moment.  
  
“You know I don’t need avo toast art artwork every time, Son.”

A couple of weeks ago Emily decided to draw patterns and images on their toast with sriracha, and the art is often so good that she doesn't want to ruin it by eating it. Just last weekend Emily did adorable portraits of Fergy and Bagel that Lindsey could not stop proudly showing people even though she also posted it on Instagram.  
  
“I know, but I think - I hope - you’ll like this one.”  
  
“I love all your art, babe,” she reassures her girlfriend, her reply lost in the chaos of their dogs scampering into the kitchen.  
  
She smiles to herself as she listens to Emily attempt to quiet Bagel and Ferguson.  
  
“Bagel, sit,” Emily implores. “Why can’t you behave like your brother?”

“Do you need me to -” she starts to say and turns in her chair.  
  
“No! No, I’ve got it,” Emily insists and emphatically gestures for her to stay seated.  
  
Her eyes narrow in suspicion and confusion. Emily’s being extra weird today and she can’t pin down why.  
  
“Okaaaay….”  
  
“Just give me one more minute and we can eat.”  
  
“Whatever you say, weirdo,” she teases, but Emily’s attention is back on their dogs and whatever it is she's fussing with by the stove.

There are a few yips from Fergy followed by a _‘Good doggies’_ from Emily. She raps her fingers on the table absentmindedly and quickly checks her email.

“Okay, sorry that took so long, but it’s ready,” Emily declares after another moment.  
  
“ _Finally_.”

“Close your eyes,” Emily requests.  
  
She whips her head around.  
  
“What? Sonny, why?”  
  
“Please?” Emily pouts at her from across the kitchen. She’s never been able to resist an Emily Ann Sonnett pout.

“Alright,” she relents and faces away, eyes closed. “You better not smash that toast in my face,” she warns.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Emily laughs. “Are your eyes closed?”  
  
“Yes, Son, my eyes are closed.”  
  
“Swear on Messi.”

"Babe…"

"Swear it!"  
  
“I swear on Messi that my eyes are closed,” she sighs.

There’s quiet muttering from Emily to their dogs and she hears their paws clack across the kitchen tiles, Emily’s footsteps behind them.  
  
“Bagel, what are you - _sit,_ girl. There you go, good girl,” Emily says off to her right.  
  
And then she feels Emily next to her, smells the body wash that she so helpfully scrubbed into Emily’s skin earlier, hears Emily inhale deeply before speaking.

“Thanks for being so patient, Linds,” Emily murmurs. There’s the light thud of a plate as it hits the table and the familiar, warm press of Emily’s lips to the top of her head. “Wait a second before you open your eyes, okay?” Emily asks.  
  
She nods in response and senses Emily step back, her voice further away when she speaks next. She’s not sure what’s going on right now, but she trusts Emily. Always has, always will.  
  
“Okay, Linds. Open your eyes.”

She does and blinks down at the plate of avocado toast that Emily made for her, confusion taking over her features as she tries to understand what is written across the two pieces of bread.

“Em…” she begins, twisting to look over at her girlfriend. “What is -”  
  
The rest of her question never makes it out of her mouth when she meets Emily’s nervous but hopeful eyes and absorbs the scene in front of her, her brain rapidly trying to catch up with what’s happening. It can’t be what she thinks it is, can’t be real, can’t be what she’s wanted for so long.

She watches with her heart in her throat and tears already in her eyes as Emily swallows thickly.

“Lindsey Michelle Horan, will you - will you,” Emily stutters out, repeating the two words that she so neatly printed in sriracha across the avocado toast that sits in front of Lindsey. From her seat at the table she can see Emily’s hand shake then steady as her grip on the open black velvet box she holds stabilizes.

Bagel and Fergy sit shockingly patient on either side of Emily where she’s down on one knee in their kitchen, little chalkboard signs dangling from their mouths. The rest of the question Emily has yet to ask are written in bold, chalky letters on the mini blackboards, one word for each dog.  
  
Emily lets out a nervous breath and straightens her shoulders. Determination and confidence seep into her posture. Lindsey’s heart races and a soft smile blooms across Emily’s face.  
  
“Marry me, Linds?"

She starts nodding before Emily even gets the words out, pushes up from her chair and crosses the space between them on unsteady legs when Emily says it. She hears herself answer with an affirmative ‘ _Yes_ ,’ keeps repeating it over and over as she sinks to the floor in front of the love of her life, takes Emily’s face in her trembling hands and kisses her, kisses her until they both can’t breathe and their dogs interrupt, their patience gone as they paw and lick at the two of them.

Emily pulls back, laughing loud and bright as Fergy tries to reach her face, his little chalkboard abandoned on the floor. Emily’s eyes shine when they find Lindsey’s above the heads of their excited, goofball dogs. One of her hands grips Lindsey’s waist while the other is still clasped around the open box, but Lindsey only has eyes for Emily in this moment as much as she wants that ring on her finger.

“This is - how did you - you really wanna marry me?” she whispers hoarsely, unable to quell her disbelief.  
  
Emily’s whole body softens at her words, hand sliding up to cup her face and brush a stray tear from her cheek.  
  
“ ‘Course I wanna marry you, Linds. I’ve wanted it since I was that awkward, goofy twenty-two-year-old desperate to impress you and be your friend.”  
  
“You still _are_ awkward and goofy,” she retorts fondly, choking back happy tears. “But you’ve never needed to impress me. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I don’t intend to ever stop loving you, Emily Sonnett.”

“That’s good,” Emily murmurs, smirking as she leans into Lindsey until their foreheads touch. “Seeing as I _intend_ to marry you and you just agreed to it.”

This close she can see every barely-there freckle on Emily’s cheeks and the bridge of her nose, can see the swirls of individual colors in her irises, rings of blue and grey and that inner burst of hazel that she’s always been captivated by.

“I did,” she exhales into the breadth of space between them.

“You did,” Emily affirms, voice tinged with awe like she can’t believe it’s real either. “You’re gonna be my wife, Linessi.”  
  
_Wife_. She likes how the word sounds coming out of Emily’s mouth, loves all the things that it means - the promise of a whole future together, ready for them to make it whatever they want.

“You’re gonna be _my_ wife,” she challenges back, smile so wide it hurts her face.

“I can think of worse things than being the trophy wife of The Great Horan,” Emily jokes and then turns serious. “It’ll be the greatest honor of my life.”  
  
“Sap,” she whispers right before she closes the gap and kisses her girlfriend - no, her _fiancée_.

“Did you want the ring?” Emily asks when they eventually pull apart. There are no dogs jumping on them this time, Bagel and Ferguson having scampered into the other room to play. It’s just the two of them on the kitchen floor still. Her knees are starting to hurt and they should probably get up, but she doesn’t care enough to move just yet.

She nods vigorously and Emily laughs, sitting back on her heels as she cradles the box in her palm and carefully plucks the ring from the velvet cushion. Lindsey’s gaze locks on the ring gripped securely between Emily’s thumb and forefinger, taking in the details that she missed in the initial haze of Emily’s proposal.

“It’s beautiful,” she exhales. And it truly is. She doesn’t know where Emily found it, but it’s unlike anything she’s come across in the moments where she couldn’t help herself and scrolled through engagement rings on Pinterest while she and Emily were on opposite sides of the country.

“A beautiful ring for a beautiful woman,” Emily grins, her eyes crinkling in that way Lindsey finds irresistibly adorable.

“I’ve already said yes, babe, you don’t need to flatter me.”

“Not flattery, just the truth,” Emily counters, sincere as she always is and always has been when it comes to the compliments, praise, and support that she lavishes on Lindsey. Some days she isn’t able to accept and internalize Emily’s affirmations or see herself in the way that Emily sees her, but with time and Emily’s constant, patient love those days have shrunken in number. 

She may never fully heal from those years at PSG and what they did to her self-image, or from the tumultuous relationships she had when she returned to the States before she and Emily got their shit together. Emily knows about all of it; she has seen Lindsey’s scars (both the superficial external ones and the deep internal ones) and she still calls her beautiful, still wants her, forever. 

Lindsey doesn’t know what she did in a past life to deserve Emily’s unconditional love in this one, but she’s sworn to never take it for granted and be worthy of it every single day.

Emily slips the ring onto her finger, both of their hands shaking as she does it.

“I love you so much,” Emily professes. “I forgot to say that, before. I got too nervous. But I do. You make every day better, Linds. And I’m - I’m so lucky you chose me, that I get to be with you.”

“Package deal,” she replies with conviction, her smile wide. Trades and time zones and oceans and insecurities and everything in between couldn’t tear them apart. And now they get their forever.

* * *

“We should call our parents,” Emily suggests once they’ve moved off the floor and onto the couch in the living room where they can cuddle each other and keep an eye on the dogs.  
  
“Huh?” Lindsey responds distractedly. She’s still staring at the ring on her finger and a contented warmth spreads through Emily’s chest at the sight.

“Our parents,” she repeats, lacing her fingers with Lindsey’s. “We should probably tell them.”  
  
Lindsey jolts up, their interlocked hands falling to the couch cushion.  
  
“Oh my god, you’re right!”

She laughs while Lindsey scrambles to search the pockets of her Adidas hoodie (it’s Emily’s actually, but their closet has become so intermingled that it doesn’t matter anymore what belongs to whom).  
  
“Your phone’s on the table in the kitchen, babe,” she adds helpfully.

Lindsey stands and tugs Emily up with her. She stumbles into Lindsey and their lips meet in a long, messy kiss.

“What was that for?” she asks, breathless.

“Just wanted to kiss my fiancée,” Lindsey explains, her blue-green eyes sparkling with joy and a dash of lust. If Emily hadn’t just foolishly suggested they call their families she’d be dragging Lindsey down the hall to their bedroom right now. She briefly considers telling Lindsey that their parents can wait, but she’s already spun out of her arms and left the room.

She inhales, pinches the bridge of her nose and tries to conjure up Lindsey’s stats from this past season with the Thorns as a distraction. That backfires because then she starts to think about how good Lindsey looks when she scores goals so she switches tactics and runs through defensive sets from her last game with the Pride. By the time Lindsey returns, phone and forgotten avocado toast in hand, she’s gotten herself mostly under control.

“We should probably eat this,” Lindsey suggests and sets the toast down on the coffee table. “You worked so hard on it and I’m still hungry.”

She reaches forward to grab one of the pieces of bread but Lindsey’s arm shoots out to hold her back.  
  
“Wait!” Lindsey half-shouts.

  
“Why? You _just_ said we should eat it.”

“I wanna take a picture first,” Lindsey explains. “It’s not every day I get proposal avo toast.”

“I should hope not,” she teases and sits back so Lindsey can position the plate _just right_ on the table and get every angle.

“Do you think you can get the dogs to pose again with their signs?” Lindsey asks when she finishes her photo shoot with the famous Proposal Avocado Toast.

“I’m sure I can bribe them later with some treats. But I kinda had another idea - now that you’ve said yes and all.”

“Yeah?” Lindsey asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Later,” she promises. “Food and phone calls first. Focus, Horan.”

"Sonnett-Horan. Or Horan-Sonnett. Or just Sonnett," Lindsey says.

"What?" 

"When we get married," Lindsey explains. "I won't be 'Horan' anymore."

 _‘When we get married’_ \- Lindsey’s words remind her it’s not an if anymore, not even a hypothetical when. It’s the real deal. She said yes.

"You wanna give up ‘The Great Horan’ and hyphenate?" she questions, a bit surprised that Lindsey is so willing to abandon the name she built her career under, her worldwide fame, her brand.

Lindsey gives her a look.

"You know I've never liked that nickname. And I kinda want to see your name next to mine."

"As the obvious trophy wife in this marriage, I always figured I'd take your name."

“Stop calling yourself that,” Lindsey admonishes.

“Why?”

“Firstly, you’re older than me, so it’s not even accurate.”

“A technicality.”

“Secondly, you’re not just some...arm candy or whatever that I trot out to show off.”

“Ouch, babe, you wound me.”

“I’m serious, Em,” Lindsey says, eyes piercing as she takes Emily’s hands in hers. “You’re not a trophy to me; you’re not another prize I have to win and add to my shelf. You’re my person. The love of my life. The most important thing in the world to me is you. And I know you say it as a joke, but we’re equal partners in this relationship and I want to make sure you and everyone else knows that.”

“Of course I know that, Linds,” she assures her future wife. “You’ve never made me feel unequal in this relationship. You’re my person, too.”

She punctuates her words with a soft kiss that lingers and turns languid until she succeeds in chasing away the concern written across Lindsey’s face. When she pulls back she’s rewarded with a true Lindsey smile, the kind that makes her dimple really stand out and her eyes shine. 

“Your Adidas contract _is_ bigger than mine though. And you’ve got your face on a granola bar.”

“That doesn’t matter and you know it.”

“I’m just sayin’, if _I’m_ not a trophy wife then maybe _you’re_ my sugar mama," she teases, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively for added effect.

Lindsey rolls her eyes and pulls her into her arms. She nestles her head under Lindsey’s chin and revels in the steady thump of Lindsey’s heartbeat under her ear, content to let the younger women run her fingers through her hair as they lie on the couch together.

"Someone's gotta pay for your sneakerhead addiction,” Lindsey agrees. “I swear you've got more shoes than Pinoe and Sue combined."

“No way,” she scoffs. “Not possible.”

“Whatever you say, babe,” Lindsey chuckles.

"Back to the name thing though,” she pipes up, turning the conversation away from the number of shoes she may or may not own. “We could be modern and combine our last names into a whole new one."

"What, like Soran? Or Honnett? Absolutely not."

"You forgot Hornet," she suggests, barely able to contain her laughter. "And Sonran."

"Stop. No. Those are awful," Lindsey groans.

“You’re right,” she laughs. “Though Hornet is kinda badass, not gonna lie.”

“No, Emily. Just...no.”

“Okay, okay, okay. We’ll stick with what we’ve got - Horan and Sonnett. We don’t have to decide anything right now though.”

"No, we don't. But I just wanted you to know - I'll happily take your name, Emily Ann Sonnett."

"Noted," she grins and pecks a kiss to Lindsey's cheek.

They finally get around to eating the toast (she only smears a _tiny_ bit of avocado on Lindsey’s cheek) and settle in to call Lindsey’s family. She sits to the side while Lindsey FaceTimes her brother first and adds in her parents.  
  
“What’s up, sis?” Mike asks while they wait for Lindsey’s parents to answer. “Hey, Sonnett,” he adds with a grin when she scoots closer to Lindsey on the couch and enters into view.

“Mikey Mike, my dude!” she greets happily and helps Lindsey dodge his question; Lindsey is a _terrible_ liar and will blow the whole thing if she says anything at all to Mike.

Mike looks suspicious of their behavior and opens his mouth to say something, but luckily Lindsey’s mom answers and pops up on screen.

“Lindsey! Michael! Emily!” Mrs. Horan exclaims excitedly as she sees each of them on the call. “Hi!”

“Hey, Mom,” Lindsey and Mike reply at almost the exact same time.  
  
“Hi, Mrs. Horan,” she adds. Despite her many attempts, Lindsey’s mom has never been able to get Emily to shake her Southern manners and call her by her first name.

“How are you guys?” Mrs. Horan asks.

“Is dad around?” Lindsey responds instead of answering her mother.

She notices Mike’s face grow more suspicious, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, he’s just in the other room,” Mrs. Horan says. “Is everything all right, sweetie?”

“Yes, yeah. We’re good. Everything’s fine. More than fine, great really,” Lindsey starts rambling and Emily has to fight back a laugh while Lindsey flounders. “Can you just get dad, please? We wanted to talk to both of you.”

Mrs. Horan still looks concerned but agrees and puts the phone down to stand up and call for Lindsey’s father. She catches Mike’s smug grin on the screen and knows that at least one Horan has figured them out.

“So you did it, huh?” Mike says very pointedly to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says back, voice low as she struggles to keep a smile from forming. Lindsey somehow doesn’t hear them, too distracted by keeping an eye on her mom and trying not to give away her big news.

“Who did what now?” Mrs. Horan asks, holding the phone back up so that they can see both her and Mr. Horan who has joined her at the kitchen table.

“Howdy, gang,” Mr. Horan greets.

She’s about to respond with her own greeting when she feels Lindsey’s right hand grip her knee. She pauses and turns to look at Lindsey to see what’s up, but instead of looking at her Lindsey blurts out: 

“Emily and I are engaged!”

Her eyes widen in surprise at Lindsey’s choice to just bulldoze right ahead with no preamble, but then again she should have known it would go this way.

Mrs. Horan squeals in delight while Mike shouts “I _knew_ it!” and Mr. Horan just sits there grinning at them through the phone.

She shakes her head with an amused grin as Lindsey gives her a sheepish shrug and a lopsided smile. Lindsey's hand is still on her knee and she covers it with her own, lacing their fingers together.

"Well, that's one way to tell them, Linds," she teases and the three Horans on the phone all laugh.

"I couldn't hold it in any longer," Lindsey confesses, not even bothering to defend herself. It makes her feel warm all over, knowing how excited Lindsey was to tell her family, how happy she is that Emily proposed, how proud she seems to be to call Emily her future wife.

"I can't believe my baby's engaged," Mrs. Horan exclaims.

"It doesn't feel real to me either," Lindsey agrees. Emily watches as her eyes dart down to the ring on her finger as if to check that it's still there and not something she dreamed. She squeezes Lindsey's other hand to draw her attention back up and they gaze at each other dopily for a long moment while she temporarily forgets about Lindsey's family watching them on the video call.

"It definitely happened," she assures her now-fiancée. "We've got the photos to prove it."

That brings up a whole round of questions about the proposal itself and Lindsey launches into the story while she interjects periodically with her own perspective of how it all went down. By the end of the retelling Lindsey is crying and Mrs. Horan is crying and she's maybe also crying just a little bit and Mike's rolling his eyes at all of them. 

“It's about time,” Mike mutters, but he’s smiling in approval. “Guess I’ll be beating you in Scrabble at every family gathering for the rest of eternity, Sonnett,” he boasts.  
  
“You wish,” she tosses back. “You only win cuz you _cheat_!” she accuses.

“All my words are legal according to the _dictionary_ so I dunno how that could be considered ‘cheating,’ but whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“Depends on which -”

“Guys,” Lindsey cuts in before they really get going. Their bickering is all in good fun and Lindsey is smiling too widely and fondly to be truly annoyed with them. Emily knows for a fact that Lindsey loves how well she and Mike get along; she gets the same feeling when Lindsey calls Emma for their monthly virtual wine night that almost always turns into them drunk dialing her to join them so that they can roast her together and swap embarrassing stories about her.

"It's just some good-natured sibling ribbing, Linds. Gotta be able to trash talk my big bro."

"You're both ridiculous," Lindsey admonishes, swiping at her still-teary eyes with her left hand, her right one still firmly entwined with Emily's.

“Oh, _Lindsey_ ,” Mrs. Horan gushes, catching sight of Lindsey's new bling. “That ring is gorgeous!”

“I know,” Lindsey beams. She finds that she can’t look away from Lindsey, captivated by the happiness she radiates in this moment as she and her mom get caught up in the ring and the mentions of dresses and planning and timing.

That goes on for several minutes and her mind drifts to the future. What was a hazy picture now forms into a clearer vision of what their wedding day might actually look like. She snaps back to attention when she hears Lindsey say something to her father, images of white lace and fairy lights fading from her head.

“You didn’t seem surprised, dad,” Lindsey comments.

“Well...I mean, Emily asked me nearly a year ago, so I’ve been expecting this,” Mr. Horan explains. “Honestly I was worried you’d forgotten to ask or lost the ring, Emily,” he teases.

She blushes and ducks her head. She can feel Lindsey’s eyes on her and knows there will be questions.  
  
“No, sir, I didn’t forget.”

“I’m glad you didn't. We’re so very happy to have you in this family, Emily. You know you’re already a part of it, but it’s nice to know that it will be a permanent thing.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.”

“And maybe you’ll start calling me by my first name once I’m your father-in-law,” Mr. Horan jokes.  
  
“We’ll see,” she laughs. “But don’t count on it.”

“This is all very sweet,” Lindsey interjects. “But can we go back to the Emily asking you part?”

“That’s Emily’s story to tell, not mine,” Mr. Horan replies with a friendly wink. “I promise I was nice.”

“He was,” she confirms. “I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck.”

Mr. Horan laughs loudly.

“That’s an understatement. Poor girl was practically shaking.”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell the story?” she reminds him, her cheeks pinking.

“I’m done, I’m done,” Mr. Horan replies and mimes zipping his lips.

“Don’t listen to her,” Lindsey argues.

“Later, babe,” she promises and squeezes Lindsey’s hand. It’s really not much of a story to tell, but she knows Lindsey will want the details all the same.

* * *

  
  
_It happened last Thanksgiving when they’d gone to Colorado that year to be with Lindsey’s family, a trip to Georgia for Christmas and New Year’s already planned. She knew this was her best opportunity to speak with Mr. Horan one-on-one; when Lindsey’s parents were able to make it to games their time was always short and hectic as they tried to cram in as much visit time as possible._

_She didn’t have a ring yet, but she knew she wanted to marry Lindsey. She wanted to do things properly like the good Southern gentleman she was even though she could hear Pinoe’s voice in her head telling her she didn’t need to perform “outdated social norms that perpetuate a patriarchal society,” and Christen’s voice saying “No man can own a woman’s body or her soul,” and Kelley’s voice telling her to "Just put a fucking ring on it.”_

_It was the night before she and Lindsey were flying back to Portland to spend some time just the two of them between family visits to have their own belated celebration of her birthday. She'd run out of opportunities and this was truly her last chance of the trip to find a moment alone with Lindsey's father and no curious ears around to eavesdrop on their conversation. Lindsey and her mom were upstairs going through some of her old childhood things and Mike was out catching up with some high school friends. It was just her and Mr. Horan watching TV in the living room, flipping between college football and basketball._

_She had no idea who was playing in either game or what the score was because she was so nervous. She'd picked the label off her half-empty and now lukewarm beer bottle and was fidgeting in her seat on the couch._

_"Another beer?" Mr. Horan asked as he stood from his end of the couch._

_"Sorry, what was that?" she asked back, too distracted by her nerves to register the question._

_"I was wondering if you wanted another drink, but maybe that's enough for tonight," Mr. Horan joked good-naturedly._

_It took her a beat too long to force out a nervous laugh and Mr. Horan's features softened into a look of concern._

_"You okay, kiddo?"_

_"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she rushed out. "All good on the beer, still finishing this one and probably shouldn't be hungover for the flight tomorrow. Don't think Lindsey would appreciate that."_

_Mr. Horan chuckled._

_"She probably wouldn't. But are you sure you're alright, Emily?"_

_Hearing her full name still took some getting used to whenever she was with Lindsey's family. Mike called her 'Sonnett' and occasionally 'Son,' but she'd told Lindsey's parents that 'Emily' was more than fine even though Lindsey barely ever called her that._

_"Yes, sir, just peachy," she replied and immediately cringed at her own words. No one who said they were 'just peachy' ever meant it._

_Mr. Horan was still standing and now moved to sit down next to her, his brow furrowing just like Lindsey's did when she was worried. He opened his mouth then hesitated as if he wasn't sure he should say whatever was on his mind._

_She dodged his gaze and fiddled with the bottle in her hands, willing herself to just say the words. What did she think was going to happen? What was she so afraid of?_

_"I know it's not really my place to ask this sort of thing, but you seem upset and Lindsey's not here right now and I know she'd want me to help you if I could. Is this a soccer thing? Or a - more personal thing? Are you and Lindsey okay?"_

_Her head snapped up at that question. Now Lindsey's dad thought they're having problems. She was really crushing this._

_"No! It's - it's not that at all. Lindsey and I are great, really great. The distance is hard sometimes, but we make it work and she - she's the best person I know. I'm so lucky."_

_"She is pretty special," Mr. Horan agreed, an encouraging smile on his face. "So what's this about then?"_

_She put her beer bottle down on the coffee table and straightened up her posture, scooting toward the edge of the couch and turning toward Mr. Horan. She sat on her shaking hands in an attempt to settle her nerves with no success._

_"I, um, you see - the thing is -" she stopped, unable to get the sentence out and praying she wasn't completely blowing this._

_Mr. Horan looked at her patiently and nodded for her to continue._

_She took in a deep breath and thought about how this entire week all she wanted was a lifetime of holidays with Lindsey. A lifetime of switching off between Colorado and Georgia and maybe one day Portland when they had a house and children and their own traditions. A lifetime of off-seasons and eventually retirement together. A lifetime of Lindsey by her side, forever._

_She thought of Lindsey and the life she wanted and it settled her and made her sure._

_This time when she spoke the shakiness in her voice was gone, replaced with steadfast confidence and laced with purpose._

_"I would like to marry your daughter, Mr. Horan," she stated, looking him dead in the eyes. "I know that Lindsey's her own person and can make her own choices and doesn't need your permission, but I'd still like your blessing for when I ask her. Because it matters to me that you support her and that you support our relationship. All I want in this world is to make her happy and for her to know that she is loved every single day. I want to be the person that does that for her, for the rest of our lives. And I - I hope you'll agree."_

_Mr. Horan blinked at her for a moment and her heart thudded in her chest while she waited for him to speak. His face had gone serious and she was afraid that he was going to say no, that he was going to tell her she's not good enough for Lindsey (she knows she isn't, no one could ever be good enough for Lindsey). But then his eyes brightened and his lips spread into a wide smile._

_Suddenly and unexpectedly he reached for her and pulled her into a hug._

_"Oh, Emily, of course you can marry her. Nothing would make me and Linda happier.”_

_“Re-really?”_

_“Absolutely. You’ve always taken care of Lindsey and loved her, even when she wasn’t ready to see it. But you never wavered, and you never stopped loving her. We see how happy you make Lindsey, how you put her first above everything else; we couldn’t ask for a better partner in life for our daughter.”_

_“I - thank you, sir. That means a lot to me. I promise I’ll take care of her, treat her the way she deserves.”  
  
“I know you will,” Mr. Horan replied. _

_He squeezed her shoulder and they went back to watching the game like nothing had happened. Lindsey came downstairs twenty minutes later and flopped onto the couch next to her. She caught Mr. Horan’s eye across the room as she pulled Lindsey toward her and let the younger woman rest her head in her lap._

_“Everything okay?” Lindsey asked._

_“Just peachy,” she answered with a grin and Mr. Horan chuckled._

  
  


* * *

Almost two hours later they’ve finished calls with both their families, her parents and sister equally as happy as Lindsey’s family and as unsurprised as Mr. Horan. She called Emma the day she first went to look at rings and started freaking out, convinced she’d never be able to find something good enough for Lindsey. Emma had calmly talked her off that ledge and told her to go with her gut - she’d know the ring when she saw it and Lindsey would love it no matter what.

And her parents...well, they’d always known there was something different about her relationship with Lindsey. 

It all came spilling out after the now infamous national team camp where she and Lindsey had a knock-down, drag-out fight where a lot of the things they’d both been bottling up and ignoring for several years all came to a head. She showed up on her parents’ doorstep with no warning and had no choice but to explain how she’d been in love with her best friend for almost as long as she’d known her but had finally accepted that she was never going to love her back.

Lindsey appeared at their house two days later looking as haggard as Emily felt, begging to see her. Her dad didn’t want to let Lindsey in, but her mother reasoned with him and brought Lindsey up to her childhood bedroom where she’d been wallowing in self-pity and heartache. Her parents kindly left the house to give them space and privacy to work things out, and when they came back several hours later her mom found them curled together asleep in her bed, Lindsey wrapped protectively around her.

So yeah, her family knew Lindsey was the person she intended to spend the rest of her life with, they were just patiently waiting for the day when Emily finally made the move and asked the question. And now that day was here and they were perfect and supportive and it was more than her younger self could've ever hoped for.

* * *

“If we don’t tell Mal and Rose and Sammy today they’ll kill us,” Lindsey says while they laze on the couch and enjoy a moment of quiet after their two lengthy family phone calls. “And Kelley. Kelley will definitely kill us.”  
  
“She already knows,” Emily reveals. “Well, she knows I was planning to ask you, not when it was happening. And Alex. Oh, also Ash and Ali. They’ve all been my riding my ass for months.”

That’s like a quarter of their retired national team teammates. Who _didn’t_ Emily tell?  
  
“ _Months_? How long have you been planning this exactly?” she asks, craning her neck to look up at Emily.

Emily blushes and looks bashful before she answers, scratching the back of her neck while she speaks.  
  
“Uh, since mid-May I guess? That’s when I decided to buy a ring at least. And I’d already asked your dad as you now know. Then I had to figure out how I was gonna propose, and where, and when, and then I had to train the dogs which was a whole thing, so yeah...it was a few months in the works.”

She blinks at Emily in a mix of surprise and deep adoration for the woman that she’s promised to spend the rest of her life with. Sonnett is not a planner - she is spontaneous and impulsive and usually focused on the immediate future, the next moment. She doesn’t have the attention span for something that long-term unless it’s soccer-related. And yet she did all of this for her - spent the time choosing the perfect ring, thought out the proposal, somehow managed to train their chaotic dogs without her knowing, made it a surprise even though she knows Emily _hates_ keeping anything from her.

“You’re amazing,” she proclaims and flips her body so that she’s straddling Emily on the couch, propped up by her forearms.

“Yeah?” Emily says, still shy. “It was good?”  
  
“More than good, babe. It was perfect.”  
  
“I know it wasn’t a big, elaborate thing, and we didn’t go anywhere fancy or cool -”  
  
“I don’t need any of that, Em,” she interrupts and ducks down to drop a kiss to Emily’s jaw. “I just need you. And our dogs. But mostly you.”  
  
“I thought about doing it over Christmas, in Colorado with your parents, but I dunno, Portland’s always been _our_ place and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“I’m glad you didn’t wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m so ready to be married to you.”

They end up getting distracted and make out on the couch for a bit until a ping from both their phones draws their attention back to their original task.

Rose has sent their group chat a picture of her new bulldog puppy, Wilbur John Wrinkles, and Mal and Sam are blowing up the chat with emoji responses.

“Perfect timing,” Emily says as she runs a hand through her tousled hair and straightens her shirt where Lindsey had bunched it up so she could run her hands along Emily’s abs.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Emily asks and hands over Lindsey’s phone while leaving hers on the coffee table.

“I most certainly would,” she replies and accepts the phone.

She types out a quick ‘ _Gonna facetime you guys_ ’ message to the group. ‘ _Bagel and Fergy want to say hi_ ’ she adds for good measure.

Emily chuckles softly in her ear, looking over her shoulder as she types.

“That’ll get ‘em for sure.”

She dials the group, not bothering to wait for their friends to confirm they’re free to chat. She knows that they’re not busy - it’s the off-season and still a few weeks from Christmas.

Rose picks up first and instantly demands to see Bagel and Fergy.  
  
“I was promised dogs,” Rose states by way of a greeting.

“Yeah, where are the dogs?” Mal asks when she pops on screen.

“Wow, some manners you guys have,” Emily retorts. “No hi, hello, how are you, it’s so good to see you.”  
  
Rose visibly rolls her eyes.  
  
“ _Hello_ , Sonnett. _How are you_ , Sonnett?” Rose tosses back snarkily.

“I thought there were going to be dogs,” Sam pipes up, the last to join the call.

“We’ve got something _better_ than dogs to show you,” Emily tells them, looking over at Lindsey with a sneaky smile. She can’t help but smile back.

“What could _possibly_ be better than _dogs_?” Rose questions.

“I swear, Sonnett, if you’re about to show us a new dance I _will_ hang up,” Mal threatens.

“It’s not a dance, _Mallory_.”

“Just show us, Son,” Rose interjects.

“Well, uh, actually, it’s Lindsey.”  
  
“You’re showing us Lindsey?” Sam asks perplexed. “We can already see her.”  
  
“No, that’s not what I -”  
  
She watches in amusement as Emily stumbles over her words and looks to her for help.

“Linds. Babe. Show them. Show them the thing.”  
  
“The _thing_?” Mal repeats. “What the heck are you guys talking about?”  
  
“It’s not a _thing_ ,” she says, cutting Mal off and rolling her eyes at Emily. “It’s a ring.”

The simultaneous shrieks that her phone emits when she holds her hand up to the screen to show off said ring send the dogs running and howling and it’s complete chaos for several minutes.

Rose, Mal, and Sam start talking all at once, a jumble of questions and congratulations and demands to see the ring again.

“You guys!!!”  
  
“I thought you’d _never_ propose, Sonny.”  
  
“Oh my god, _finally_.”  
  
“That ring, though. Damn, Son, you did good.”

“I need to see it again, Lindsey. Show us again.”

“This actually _is_ better than dogs!”

“How did you do it, Sonnett?”  
  
“Did Lindsey cry? I bet she cried.”

“The ring! I need to see more of the ring.”

  
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were _freaking proposing_ , Son! You’re so bad at keeping secrets and yet -”  
  
“Show. Us. The. Ring.”

“- we’re your _best friends_ and you kept this all to yourself! _You_ were the one that blew our cover on the Skechers joke - which, yes, I am _still_ mad about -”

“You two are going to have the most hipster wedding of all time, but it’s going to be so beautiful. Oh gosh, I’m crying just thinking about it.”

“Dibs on maid of honor, Linds. Don’t even think about picking one of the Aussies over me.”

“- and you didn’t even ask us for _help_ or _ideas_ or -”

“You’re really gonna be married,” Sam gushes in amazement and they all go quiet.

She turns to catch Emily’s eye but she’s already looking at her, smiling that extra soft smile she reserves just for Lindsey.

“Yeah, we are,” Emily confirms, voice reverent as they stare into each other’s eyes, oblivious for a moment to everything around them. 

When Lindsey turns back to her phone she catches all three of their friends dabbing at their own eyes.

“Are you guys _crying_?” Emily exclaims in overly dramatic shock.

They all shake their heads but none of them verbally deny it, their sniffles evident.  
  
“It’s just…” Sam starts, but can’t finish through her tears.

“We’re just really happy for you,” Rose tells them, the first of the three to compose herself.

“ _So_ , _so_ happy,” Mal adds.

They don’t need to say anything else. 

They all had a front row seat to the ups and downs of the rocky road that eventually, finally, blessedly brought her and Emily together. 

They were there when Emily got traded to Orlando, when Lindsey permanently broke up with her on-again off-again boyfriend, when Emily started seeing someone in Florida, when Lindsey and Emily barely spoke to each other for months, when Emily stopped seeing someone but didn’t make a move, when they got into a giant screaming match in a hotel room somewhere in Ohio at the end of a Victory Tour, when Emily fled to Georgia and wouldn’t answer Lindsey’s calls or texts, when Lindsey decided to fight for them and went after her, when they went off the grid for two weeks and showed up at the next national team camp not fully healed but _together_.

Their friends have held both of them and wiped away heartbroken tears, have offered kind and listening ears and never, ever picked sides. Through the worst of it they supported both of them the best that they could, gently pushing and encouraging until she and Emily stopped hurting each other and started loving each other in the way they had always wanted to but were too afraid to try.

“Thanks, y’all,” Emily tells them, her tone sincere. She squeezes Emily’s hand and fights back her own tears as she remembers for the millionth time today how lucky she is to be engaged to the woman beside her.

* * *

  
  
Several hours later they’re back in bed, tangled together like they were this morning when Emily woke up and knew with perfect clarity that today was the day.

Lindsey is actively fighting sleep beside her, her eyelids fluttering closed as she stares across the pillow at Emily. 

“Can’t wait to marry you,” Lindsey murmurs.

She squeezes Lindsey’s hand and runs her thumb across the new ring that now adorns Lindsey’s finger. It’s quickly becoming one of her favorite things to do, a physical reminder of the promise they’ve made, a visual representation of their commitment to each other.

“Me too,” she whispers. “We’re a package deal, for life.”

She doesn’t think Lindsey actually hears her, is fairly certain Lindsey is already asleep, but then Lindsey’s mouth quirks up in a half-smile and she squeezes her hand back. They drift to sleep like that, their hands entwined on the pillow between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Confirmed: I am very soft for these two idiots.
> 
> Also confirmed: you will now need a trip to the dentist because of the tooth-rotting fluff.
> 
> I've got a playlist for this fic that I used for inspiration while writing it. If anyone wants that lmk and I'll share it.


End file.
